Without realizing it, Annie had stopped them in the perfect place for an ambush. It was a dark curve in the road where they couldn’t be seen from town or by their fellow passengers, who were now ahead of them. Were there any stragglers behind them? Dean would guess not or their attackers—he was assuming there was more than one—wouldn’t have made their move.
They must have been watching from the station and followed, waiting for an opportunity. Were they the source of the signal failure?
Shit.
Sensing the movement behind him, Dean reacted. As he couldn’t both reach for his gun and get Annie out of the way, he chose the latter. He pushed her away from him and spun, instinctively using his hand to knock aside the weapon that he was pretty sure had been coming toward the back of his head.
He connected with enough force to do some damage, but the guy was well trained. He grunted with pain but didn’t release the weapon—an HK USP Tactical with Swiss-made suppressor, from the looks of it.
Dean was ready with his next move before the attacker could bring the gun back around. He wasn’t going to mess around, not wanting to take any chances. He didn’t know how many or how skilled they were. It was kill or be killed. He went for a blow to the throat, targeting the trachea with the side of his forearm and swinging his leg around his ankle at the same time to knock him off balance.
There was a sickly crunch and gasp as the guy’s throat collapsed. He crumpled and started to fall back but had enough presence of mind while he was asphyxiating to swing the muzzle back around. Dean stomped on his gut and tried to knock the gun away again, but at the same time he sensed the second guy out of the corner of his eye to the right, taking aim.
Fuck, he wasn’t going to have time to do both. He went for the gun that was in his reach. He swore he could see down the barrel as he reached for the choking man’s hands and tried to point the muzzle in the direction of his compatriot.
He didn’t make it before the shot went off. It went wide of Dean, but not wide enough to come close to the second attacker.
The guy was going to shoot him.
Dean heard the muffled sound of a gun being fired, and in the split second of awareness, he steeled himself for impact.
It didn’t come.
Shit.The sound had come from behind him. He watched in disbelief as the second attacker who’d been standing about ten feet away fell—or dropped—backward as the bullet struck him right between the eyes.
Holy shit.
Dean turned slowly around, already guessing what he was going to see. Annie stood there frozen, still holding the gun in the firing position.
•••
It had happened so fast. Annie didn’t know what had possessed her to grab the gun as “Dan” pushed her away. It was there tucked in the back of his jeans, and her hand just kind of clenched the grip on instinct, and as he pushed her back, the gun came with her.
Neither did she consciously think about shooting the second attacker. Dan was locked in battle with the first guy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the second guy approaching with a raised arm and a gun on the end of it pointed in Dan’s direction. She didn’t think. She just lifted her hands and fired.
Instinct again. Although it was the first time she’d shot anything other than a piece of paper at a shooting range.
Oh God, she’d just killed someone.
Slowly awareness dawned, creeping over her in a mottled flush of shock. She couldn’t seem to move. She was still holding the gun; her finger was still pulling the trigger. She wanted to let it go, but she couldn’t release the death grip.
Dan came toward her and wrapped his hand around her wrist, forcing her arm down at the same time as he released the gun from her hand.
She looked at him wordlessly. What just happened?
She didn’t think she’d spoken aloud, but she couldn’t be sure. The noise in her head was too loud. “You just saved my life. You didn’t have any other choice. He would have killed me.” He shook his head in amazement. “Shit, how the hell did you learn to shoot like that? I thought you didn’t like guns.”
“I don’t. I hate them.”
He laughed. “You could have fooled me. You shoot like a pro.”
She frowned. “I haven’t touched a gun since my father died.”
“But he trained you?”
She nodded. He’d insisted she learn how to defend herself. He’d said she was a natural. She’d almost been able to hear the “if only you’d been a boy.”
“He did a hell of a job,” Dan said. “That was a perfect shot.”
